


Olympic Village

by FrangipaniFlower



Category: Homeland
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Love, what if
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 21:45:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14341551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrangipaniFlower/pseuds/FrangipaniFlower
Summary: What if Carrie hadn’t let those nine days happened without anyone looking for Quinn but had called Astrid to help her? And what if Astrid and her team would have found him?





	Olympic Village

**Author's Note:**

> A few weeks ago Sydney started making the gifs from the gaschamber scene for our blog. Looking at these gifs made me write this story as I couldn’t deal with the despair in Quinn‘s eyes.

_”5/1 an alle: auf Stand-by.”_

_“Alle Sets auf Ausgangsposition.”_

_“Kein Zugriff.”_

_“ 5/3, Drone tiefer. Ich will mehr Sicht.”_

Astrid Keller sat in the back of the van next to her superior and the GSG 9 commander directing his teams into the compound of the old olympic village, staring at the blurry picture transmitted by the camera drone which a middle aged agent she’d never seen before carefully moved a few degrees to the right and then slowly forward.

Richter, sitting next to her, inhaled sharply and then she saw it.

_“Wir haben hier eine ABC-Lage. Ich brauche eine I-RTW. Und den Katastrophenschutz.”_

“What are they saying?”

Dar Adal’s voice, cutting through the fog which suddenly occupied her brain, which was not yet willing to process what she saw.

“He’s ordering a hazmat ambulance. And a specialized unit for CBRN defense.”

Astrid only met Dar Adal for the first time a week ago and his piercing glare still gave her a cold shiver. And yet she was glad when he slightly bent forward and asked the tech operator to zoom in to 200% or even larger.

“No time to wait for the CBRN,“ Adal‘s voice was stern and Astrid thought she heard a slight quiver in it, „If he’s with them he’ll be dead by then. These fuckers. A gas chamber. Ever heard of Gouta? Command your guys to go in. Now.”

“Intel’s too weak. And the sight too blurry.”

Richter’s voice, calm as usual, but Astrid heard the edges. 

“5/1 hier,” a familiar voice, some static noise, “haben wir ein Go? 5/1 auf stand-by.”

_Alexander. Gott hat definitiv Humor. Zwar einen beschissenen, aber Humor._

Alexander who’d been transferred from Sankt Augustin headquarters near Cologne just three months ago. Alexander who had asked her out for the first time two weeks ago. Tall, dark hair, dark eyes, dark beard, hands like bear paws, and a laugh which was deep and loud. Like a man who found his place in life long ago. Who sat in the restaurant while she’d been talking to Peter in that hallway. The first time ever she’d turned Peter down. And now-

“Alex.”

Three sets of eyes staring at her.

“Astrid. Bist Du das?” Alex‘s voice answered.

“Oh fuck it,“ Dar Adal rolled his eyes.

“Richter, 5/1 hier, wir gehen rein, wenn Du uns das Go gibst.”

“Team 5/1 is ready to go in,” Astrid translated to Adal who’d risen to his feet and leant forward now, closer to the screen, as a group of men filled the visual field.

Peter Quinn. Hands tied, gagged, feet probably bound too, limping, straight back,  
square shoulders, a gun against his temple, a camera just inches away from his face.

“Richter, bitte,” the words escaped her throat in a voice she’d never known before, a pleading tone, strained and trembling, “Alex-“

“Team 5/1, Zugriff,” Richter commanded with a steady voice, his eyes glued to the monitor, “Team 5/2 taktischer Zugriff. Team 5/3 zieht sich zurück auf stand by. THW und I-RTW hier in-,” he checked a monitor and continued, “ten minutes.”

“Why does that take so long?”

Richter didn’t turn to Adal, who was pacing the van now when he answered but kept his eyes on the monitor, watching how Peter Quinn made one last attempt to fight for his life, fruitlessly, and then got locked in the chamber then.

“Be glad this is Berlin. The whole country has twelve of these ambulances“, Richter answerer stoically.

“It’s Germany not some fucking desert shithole,” Adal snapped and Astrid was glad when Richter decided not to answer.

The drone operator slightly pulled the operator stick upwards, the new angle allowing them to see one of the men stepping towards the gas cylinders and reaching for the valve.

————————

_Five Days Earlier_

“Hey, this is Carrie,” the voice paused, “Mathison. The- we met last week. And in Islamabad. Quinn’s- friend, I guess…,” the voice left the sentence unfinished and laughed nervously.

“I know who you are.”

It had been a hell of a day and Astrid Keller was more longing for a hot bath than discussing Carrie Mathison’s needs to discover some Russian involvements into a data leak.

“It’s not about the Russians.”

_God, can she read my mind?_

“What then?”

“Quinn, he-“

“What about Peter?”

“You asked if you could see him?”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” Carrie paused, “things escalated quickly and when I was away- doing things - he went AWOL and I can’t find him.”

“Maybe he was just sick of your shit.”

But Astrid knew herself that this wasn’t true.

“No. He, you don’t understand, he was shot. Lower abdomen, bullet went through. He lost a lot of blood and developed sepsis and-“

“And it didn’t occur to you to call an ambulance or bring him to a hospital?!”

“He didn’t want that.”

“And if he says _shoot yourself_ you‘d follow his orders without questioning as well?”

 _Actually Carrie would probably_ , Astrid thought.

“Listen I know how this sounds. And I didn’t call to get lectured.”

“But?”

“I don’t have the resources to look for him. My situation is- difficult. But I thought you might be able to- well, forget it.”

“Cut the crap Carrie. What?”

“Contact Saul Berenson. Ask him to connect you with Dar Adal. Tell him what you know. Do you know Revaler Strasse?”

“Of course. Lots of clubs, lots of organized crime.”

“RAW halls?” Astrid asked, mentioning the name of the company which had formerly owned the whole quarter, “that’s inside the compound, near the river.”

“Last one, abandoned. Bring Adal there, he might be able to see something I didn’t.”

“Carrie, what is this about?”

“I can’t tell you more. Just take care of Quinn. He’s not in a good state. Really not. I’m worried, Astrid, really worried. You need to find him.”

“And you? Where are you?”

“I’ll leave Germany in two hours. Please- could you call me if there’s any news? If I text you a number?”

“Yes. I will.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m doing this for Peter, not for you.”

“You couldn’t be clearer on that.”

———————————-

_Three Days Earlier_

“We have an asset. There’s a Syrian doctor living above those Plotzensee fuckheads and Peter was with him until yesterday.”

Surprisingly enough, Dar Adal was already in Berlin when Astrid tried to contact him - and Carrie was right, he immediately was willing to meet Astrid when she mentioned Peter’s name.

When she told him the little she knew it was the look in Adal’s eyes that really started making her _very_ worried.

“He was with Mathison, you say?”

“Two or three days as far as I know. And then he disappeared.”

“I know where he _planned_ to go. Doesn’t mean he ever arrived there though.”

“Where?”

“You had a prison release of some mid rank converted jihadist last week. Provide me all details.”

This was how they found Hussein Schami, and Hajik’s hideout in the same building - and some disturbing intel Richter, she and the whole team were working on now 24/7.

It was some photos, innocuous at first, but soon they gave them the first clue that something else was going on. And a receipt for large quantities of Isopropanol. And another one for large metal doors, sealing joints. 

Then two of the phones connected to Hajik’s group had re-entered a Berlin radio cell. Astrid knew a man had died after giving them the intel about the phones.

And last night they’d been able to connect the photo with the location of the phonenumbers current whereabouts.

Dar Adal himself had supervised the search in the jihadists’ hideout, Peter’s den near river Spree as well as Hussein Schami’s interrogation.

It was a long shot, but somehow he convinced Richter - and the secretary of Interior - to agree to to setup the operation near the old Olympic Village, the place where they suspected the terrorists were preparing their strike.

But nothing had prepared them for the dire circumstances they found Peter in - and the immediate need for action.

—————————

Astrid heard the explosion, the hissing and then smoke filled the screen.

_Smoke bombs. Tear gas._

She’d witnessed enough missions to know Alex and his men would go in with clockwork precision.

And yet she felt herself holding her breath.

The monitor went dark.

Two shots in the distance. Shouting. Another shot.

“5/2 Go jetzt.”

“5/2 verstanden.”

“The second team’s going in,” she automatically translated for Adal.

“I got that,” he snapped, and then a moment later, “excuse me, I’m -“

“I know.”

——————————-

_Five minutes earlier_

 

_That’s it. Over and out. Focus. You can’t get away from this one, pathetic. You fucked it up. Hubris, whatever. Miscalculation. It’s gonna be nasty and the whole world will see it. So focus and don’t make it even more pathetic. Just pass out. The camera won’t catch you once you‘ve dropped._

Of course he tried, survival instincts kicking in one last time. But they were too many, he was tied up like a Christmas present, so it was nothing but a hail mary.

A sharp pain, Qasim‘s voice _maybe you will live_ , and then they locked and sealed the door. 

_Will Carrie live?_

Images he tried to hold on to. Not allowing the fear to creep up his spine. Fighting the flight instinct. Adrenaline accelerates the breathing and heart rate. So fight it. Slow it down. Images. Places. Moments.

Carrie and her daughter, bright red hair, Carrie’s smile, another baby, dark hair, like his mom, so much regret. 

An ocean, vast and wide. Waves crashing over him.

_Don’t breathe._

Cycling downhill, faster and faster, until he can fly.

That’s it. Game over. Tit per tat. No grand scheme of things. 

Fear wins. Panic rises. 

_Man up._

Fear wins.

——————————

Silence. A long moment of silence.

“5/1, 5/2, Lage?”

Alex’s voice answering and telling Richter they lost one men, one bleeding out. Came in just in time. Took three men out, three busted.

“Peter Quinn?”

Adal’s voice.

“Is that the hostage?”

“Yes. As far as we know.”

“He’s alive. We came in before they were able to open the valve, I think. The guy’s still standing so can’t be too bad.”

Astrid closed her eyes, letting relief wash over her, feeling nauseated, leaving the van right in time.

Leaning against the cool metal, breathing, just breathing.

The hazmat ambulance arriving.

Disaster control coming in.

Dar Adal standing next to her and offering a cigarette. Lighting one for himself to.

“He’ll be fine.”

“Yes.”

“Exposure time?”

“Zero if we are lucky.”

“One casualty.”

“Two now I guess,” Adal pointed his chin over to the GSG9 team leaving the building, a tall man with dark hair and beard pulling his balaclava off his head and turning to his men.

_Alex._

Richter stepping out of the van.

“Hazmat’s here. They are bringing him out. Lucky bastard.”

She saw the hazmat stretcher with a tent being rolled out, and turned to Richter.

“Let’s go in.”

————————

_Seven Hours Later._

It’s evening when Astrid stepped out of the BND‘s compound in Steglitz, cycled through Schöneberg and then the city‘s largest park _Tiergarten_ back to the city centre.

It was much needed forty minutes of fresh air, helping to strengthen her composure after watching the video over and over again, and then interrogating the three surviving terrorists.

The image of Peter‘s face, realizing that this would be the end, fear clouding his eyes, his face still showing his usual stoicism, was burnt into her mind and would stay there.

Crossing Kurfürstendamm she stopped at a Tchibo store, this week‘s promotion featuring conveniently men‘s _leisurewear_ and bought two t-shirts, a hoodie, soft track pants, PJs, socks and underwear, and added a pair of cheap sneakers after a moment of pondering. And coffee, not for the first time realizing the absurdity of this weekly arrangement of roasted specialty coffee and clothes, kitchenware or home decor.

And yet, each time she came from overseas, seeing a Tchibo store made her smile and think of her grandma.

Her phone vibrated when she entered a dm drugstore to get a tooth brush, shampoo and a shaving kit.

Alex, checking if she was okay, telling her he was on his way for the inhumanly demanding task ahead of him - telling two families that their husband, father and son wouldn’t come back tonight or ever again.

A sad smile crossed her features when he told her that he‘d hoped to ask her out again under different circumstances.

But there was a moment of warmth in his tired voice when he accepted her suggestion to meet for breakfast before her meeting with the federal public prosecutor general at the Ministry of Interior at eight the next morning.

She suggested to meet at seven, and Alex laughed his deep laugh, and asked her to meet her at six, he knew a place open that early.

——————-

She met Dar Adal in the entrance hall by chance, he just came out of the elevator and was heading towards the exit, stopping for a moment when he saw her with her Tchibo bag, giving her an appreciative nod.

„That was a close call. Thank God you reached out to me.“

„How is he?“

„As good as new. Quiet. Must be quite a blow to his pride.“

„But we only got them cause we were looking for him. God, it would have been thousands.“

„Yeah, but being captivated is not exactly what he sees as _collection of important intel_ ,“ the older man chuckled, „he‘s… let‘s just say he changed, and that one will stay with him for a while. I‘ll see you tomorrow.“

„Yes, eight am. I know. Good night, Mr. Adal.“

„Dar. It’s just Dar. Ah- Astrid? I never asked. But how did you know about me?“

„Carrie Mathison.“

„Of course. Carrie Mathison. Good night, Astrid.“

———————————-

She found Peter sitting in bed, propped up  
against the height adjustable mattress, in a thin hospital gown, an IV with glucose dripping into his left arm at a rather high rate.

„I was hoping you‘d be asleep and getting some rest.“

„Yeah. I probably should do that.“

She looked at him, took his appearance in, a large wound at the back of his neck covered with fresh gauze, his hands still dirty, bloody knuckles, cracked skin and lips, dark circles under his eyes, his complexion pale.

This was when she made her decision, and if she was honest with herself she‘d probably had had this in mind ever since she‘d seen the video and the expression in his eyes the very first time.

„How many of these did you get yet?“

„The IV? Three here, one in the ambulance.“

„Any surgeries planned?“

„Not yet. A few checks and scans tomorrow. I am supposed to rest.“

„Wanna get out of here? Until morning? My place is not far. Coffee, shower, fried potatoes, a friendly cat, normal bed, back here tomorrow,“ Astrid offered, knowing he‘d be glad to accept, „how long will that one run?“

„Ten more minutes. And then there’s this,“ he gestured along his body in the hospital gown, „all the rest was taken away. Risk of contamination.“

„I brought you these.“

She plopped the Tchibo bag on his bed, along with the toiletries she bought for him.

„I‘ll speak to the nurses and you make yourself decent?“

She left the room before he could answer, with her typical long strides.

—————————-

Two hours later Quinn was lying under a warm blanket in Astrid‘s bedroom; she’d insisted on him sleeping in a real bed and not on the couch. He heard her rummaging around in the kitchen - she was talking to the grey cat with blue eyes named Leni - and noticed how exhaustion finally claimed him. 

_Coffee, a hot shower, Astrid smoothing ointment on the small wounds on his knuckles, a hot meal, soft grey pants and a matching shirt, both of us avoiding the elephant in the room. Plural. Elephants._

He couldn’t talk about it. About any of it. He was choked up. And felt a bone deep coldness, one no blanket could help with.

Astrid came in again, carrying a steaming mug.

„What’s that?“

„Hot chocolate. Don’t give me that look, Peter,“ she herself gave him a stern look, the sharp vertical line over her nose making an appearance, „my place, my rules.“

But her features softened when he accepted the mug and took a sip. And he had to admit, it had been a fucking long time since he‘d felt like – this, whatever it was.

„I‘m glad we got you out in time, Peter.“

_Here we go._

„Yeah. Thank you, Astrid.“

Taking the empty mug back, she knew he wasn’t ready to talk about it, and he desperately needed to rest, so she‘d just let him sleep.

„I have an early start tomorrow. Stay a long as you want. There’s a key on the table, come back after your appointments if you want.“

„Wake me up before you go, will you?“

„I will,“ she promised, „good night, Peter.“

She leant in and softly kissed his cheek, a faint layer of shampoo and perfume lingering a second longer.

—————————

The nightmare came two hours later, with unforgiving precision. He was placed inside that chamber again, but this time no one came to undermine and stop the deadly operation threatening the city of Berlin, and therefore he wasn’t saved.

His airway closed, he couldn’t breathe anymore and the pain was unbearable, he couldn’t hold on to the few _good_ memories he‘d tried to focus on when walking into that chamber, knowing whoever he‘d met in his life would probably see the video, his muscles were contracting and he couldn’t stop them and-

„Peter. Peter. Good God, it’s just a dream. A nightmare. Peter. Hey hey hey. Sshhh. Shhhh.“

Astrid had just been about to finally fall asleep when she heard Peter moaning and gasping next door, and when she rushed into the room she saw him tossing and turning, a sheen of sweat on his contorted face, his wrists pressed together and shaking.

He bolted upright with a painful groan – she could tell he was still not out of it – when she touched his arm, one fist punching in her direction but gladly missing.

„Hey. Hey. It’s me. Astrid. You’re at my place. You’re safe. Don’t hit me. It’s over.“

He collapsed onto her shoulder with a stifled sob, fighting for air – she had no idea if he was still asleep – her arms engulfing him, slowly clutching him against her.

She felt his heart racing at a rapid clip, his shoulders shaking, his ragged breath damp against the skin of her shoulder.

Rubbing his back she kept whispering a hopefully soothing litany, slowly rocking them both slightly back and forth.

She knew what was going to happen when he slightly shifted in her arms and adjusted the angle of his face, knew that she probably should let go of him right away, but a part of her was hesitant and not willing to let go of him just yet.

She‘d never had that before, that glimpse beneath the stoic façade, a moment of weakness and raw honesty. There‘d been times when she‘d wished for it.

His large warm hand, still not entirely steady, slipping under her spaghetti strap top, demanding, pleading and yet caressing, tantalizing. His mouth pressed against the skin of her neck, trailing upwards, a sigh when he brushed over her ear, searching her mouth, whispering her name.

It would be a lie if she didn’t admit she felt herself reacting to his attempt of seduction. And of course his _need_ for her stirred something primal and possessive in her, a moment of awakening arousal clouding her thoughts.

She‘d never turned him down, and neither had he done so with her – the nature of their friendship was always out in the open for both of them, and _this_ had always been their currency. 

Forgetting the real world for a few blissful hours, never discussing anything beyond their immediate reality.

His palms were calloused and he pulled her in closer, his left hand cupping the back of her head to–

„Peter“, his hand stopped and she breathed a soft kiss on his cheek.

„Oh fuck. Fuck me,“ he breathed, real pain in his voice.

He let go of her, rubbing his face with hands, and then fell back into the pillow, his arm covering his face.

„I‘m sorry Astrid, I shouldn’t- I just thought - oh fuck.“

„Hey. You,“ she reached out for his other arm and took his hand in hers, „you couldn’t know. It was a nightmare. It’s fine.“

„God.“

He still wasn’t looking at her but didn’t pull his hand away.

So she stretched out next to him, keeping his hand in hers, placing her other hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat slowly calming down, all the while feeling herself calming down.

After a while he finally lifted his arm and looked at her, and this was when she saw a telltale shine in his eyes, along with an expression on his face which was so haunted that it broke her heart.

„We‘ve always been friends, Peter. I still _am_ your friend.“

She didn’t expect him to share any of his thoughts and fears with her, but she was glad when he tried to give her one of those smiles with the corners of his mouth actually turning downwards – _the saddest and most defeated smile in the world_ – and stretched out his arm as an invitation for her to lean in.

She knew he couldn’t have her see his tears and so she scooted closer, covered the blanket over both of them, and settled lying in his arm, her head on his chest, listening to his breathing – choked up and with suppressed sobs first, later more calm and then finally even – for the remaining hours of the night, her own presence giving him a few hours of rest.

Quinn felt the familiar warmth seeping into his body and aching bones and couldn’t keep it together anymore. Whatever had been shielding him from the atrocities around him and those he committed himself, it was gone.

So he tried to focus on his breathing and on Astrid‘s presence. Deliberately trying to shut out everything else, just breathing, and eventually he felt how his breath was evening out.

When the panic subsided and he could breathe again, he considered leaving. And then decided not to because it certainly would bring a hell of trouble over Astrid, and Dar would grill his ass should he ever get hold of him. There was still the Kroatian arm of the terror cell which needed to be tracked down. 

That - and that his body felt beyond broken. He just needed a break. He’d stay until tomorrow, he had no place to go to right now anyway as they’d probably searched and emptied the old garage. He’d talk to Dar and Richter, would go through whatever intel they had - and then he’d hit his fallback stash and take a break, or maybe he’d follow the croatian trail himself and – he fell asleep before he could finish that thought.

——————————

Astrid woke him with coffee at 5.30, he didn’t wake up when she scooted over to slip out of bed and hence didn’t witness how she watched him in his sleep for a long moment, wishing she could just let him sleep. But he needed to know.

„Hey. Peter. I‘ll leave soon. Wake up.“

She saw him claiming to consciousness,  
trying to navigate to wakefulness, witnessed the memory coming back.

„That was a close call yesterday, yes,” she said matter-of-factly when she handed the coffee mug to him.

He met her in the kitchen a few minutes later where she was feeding the cat and brewing more coffee.

“I gotta go in five minutes. There’s a key for you. Feel free to spend time here if you want to or to come back later.”

“I guess Adal wants to see me.”

“Richter as well. And,“ she knew it was shitty timing but she had to tell him, „Carrie’s on her way here.“

„Here?“ his face was unreadable, „You mean Berlin?“

„To see you. She was the one who asked me for help, Peter, that’s how we found you.“

„She shouldn’t be here, she-.“

Astrid could see he was trying to focus and interrupted him: „Peter, she’s okay. She‘ll tell you the Russian angle herself, but it’s been all taken care of. She was state-side to see her daughter. She’ll be here any minute and-“, the doorbell rang before she could finish her sentence and so she just shrugged, took her bag, placed a peck on his cheek and left with an apologetic smile.

She didn’t even close the door behind her -- he could hear her voice outside on the stairs, greeting Carrie.

“... kitchen… second right… close call… talk to you soon… “

And there she was. Standing in the door jamb, pale, her eyes teary, closing her hands into fists, looking at him.

“Fuck Quinn, I-“

“Yeah. Coffee?”

—————————-

Carrie watched him as he opened a drawer and looked for another mug, noticed the deep lines on his forehead, his bloody knuckles, and the deep shadows under his eyes.

The relief she allowed herself to feel only now was visceral, and nearly floored her.

He placed the mug in front of her and sat down at the opposite side of the sturdy wooden kitchen table, seeing her fingertips fidgeting over the rough structure of the surface.

She looked up, her eyes meeting his, her hand stopping the dance on the wood, two and a half years and a lifetime between them, and he knew he couldn’t keep it, the _doesn’t matter now, fuck it, I‘m done_ -attitude. And he had no idea what then, what to do next.

„Now what?“ Carrie asked, her voice trembling slightly.

He shrugged. „Debrief, some tests, and a lot of intel to investigate. The Kroatian-,“ he knew it was shitty behavior but then again, what did she expect?

„You know what Quinn?“ Carrie stood up, her chair tipping over when she pushed it back, and made two steps into his direction, „cut the crap. I saw that tape. I raced to the airport as soon as Astrid called me. I spent seven hours in the air, not knowing if you‘d made it. I spent five days being worried sick. I had a kill order on my back, and I feared for your life, Quinn. So don’t give me this now. I _know_ you fucking care. You nearly _died_ for me. I told you I looked for you. And now I’m telling you, my answer was a _yes_. Two years ago, my answer was a yes. And I want your answer now: Why? Why the fuck did you run away?“

She picked up her chair and sat down again, burying her face in her palms, and he knew she was probably crying.

„Carrie-,“ he paused, looking at her. Realizing he had no idea what to say, he took a deep breath and placed one hand on the table, the other one rubbing the bridge of his nose, all those years weighing heavily on his shoulders.

He looked up when he felt her hand covering the back of his.

„Quinn. We need to talk.“

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you SNQA!


End file.
